


auld acquaintance

by skuls



Series: X Files Rewatch Series [22]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s07e04 Millennium, Episode: s08e13 Per Manum, F/M, Post-Episode: s07e02 Amor Fati, Sort Of, the "how they get together" story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13219314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: In the wake of Mulder's recovery after Amor Fati, Scully asks Mulder for a favor as they begin to grow closer.





	auld acquaintance

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely have more planned for season 6, but I wanted to go ahead and get this up in time for New Year’s. (Although there will likely be something of an overall hiatus re: fics past this point in season 7 in the wake of season 11.) Anyways. There aree lots of takes on the IVF arc. This is my take on that, and on what brought Mulder and Scully to the point they reached in Millennium and after.

Mulder's first day back to work after his recovery from spontaneous brain surgery is also the day of Scully's doctor's appointment. The day he tells her about her ova. What he knew. She doesn't get to spend the day in the office with him like she'd planned. Admittedly, she's been looking forward to his return to work as much as he has, if only because she's missed him. Even after spending nearly every evening at his apartment. But now… 

Her stomach churns with the weight of what he's just told her. She wants to be hurt that he's kept this from her, but her mind keeps returning to the possibilities presented. If the ova is viable, somehow… if they can be used… then there's a possibility that she can be a mother. The odds are weighed against her, but she can't help hoping. The possibilities… 

She calls Mulder from the car, fingers cold on the phone. When he answers with a tense, “Mulder,” she sighs, tapping her thumb nervously against the wheel. “Mulder, it's me,” she says. “I'd like the location where you took my ova.” An unusual statement that she never would've expected to be saying. Silence on the other end for a moment. “If you don't mind,” she adds, voice tight. 

“O-of course,” he says too quickly. There's the sounds of clattering, like he's searching frantically, and then he's rattling off a location into the phone. 

She doesn't need to write it down; the address is lodged permanently in her brain. Something like excitement building up inside her. “Thank you,” she says, softly. The car stops at a stoplight, and she moves her thumb to hang up. 

“Scully,” Mulder blurts, and she stills the motion of her hand. “I'm sorry,” he says. “That I didn't tell you. I didn't mean to… keep it from you…”

She sighs, her fingers digging into the stitching along the wheel. “I don't want to linger on that, Mulder,” she says. The light turns and she lets the car roll forward. “Not now. I… I'm trying to see this as good news. I'm hoping that they'll find that it's good news.”

Silence. A car honks further down the road. “I hope so, too,” Mulder says softly. 

“I'm going to take the day, okay? I'm going to… take what you found somewhere else and have it checked.”

“Okay.”

“No new cases, Mulder,” she says sternly, suddenly back in the moment from the night before, beside him on the couch when he was cleared for work. “You're cleared for desk work only, remember.”

“I remember. I'll be okay.” He pauses for a moment. She turns a corner. “Good luck, Scully,” Mulder adds, before the phone cuts off. 

Scully lets the phone drop on the passenger seat and wipes her eyes, despite the lack of tears. She can't stop seeing him prone and limp on that table, on hospital beds, his eyes blank and pleading. She's wondered, more than once, what he heard in her mind. There are things she wants to tell him, things that will have to wait. She makes another turn, the phone sliding across the seat. She drives straight to the facility Mulder told her about, and tries not to get her hopes up. 

\---

Dr. Parenti tells her that there's a good chance to get her pregnant, and the emotion that washes over her is overwhelming. She can be a mother, she realizes. She has a chance. 

Dr. Parenti mentions a father, and there is no question in her mind. Absolutely none.

Seeing each other in the evenings after work has become more and more plausible since he’s gotten out of the hospital. He sounds surprised when she calls to ask him over on the way home from Parenti’s office—possibly because of the tense conversation they had in the elevator. “I’m sorry,” he says after a long beat of silence, hesitation at both ends. “I don’t want to come off as standoffish, I just… I thought you were upset with me.” 

There’s a lot of possible responses to this, but she doesn’t bother with them. Instead, she thinks of his smile when he talked to her daughter, of his hand on her cheek and his mouth against her forehead, of the possibility of  _ their _ child. Theirs. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she says. “It’s probably, um, better to do it in person.” 

“Of course.” His reply is eager, almost, tentative and excited in the same breath. “I’ll be right over. Want me to bring anything?”

_ No, just you, _ she thinks, and then immediately grimaces. They are not the type for the overly sweet and blunt affection. At least not yet. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

She rehearses the speech she came up with on the way home in her head. It all sounds silly now, words tangling into knots in her mouth. She pushes away thoughts of him saying no, thoughts of him saying yes but not being there the way she wants him to. (It seems probable that he would say no, how could they continue on the X Files with a child to take care of, maybe if they lived together and he stayed on the job and she took a teaching position… but, no, she wouldn’t want to send her child’s father out alone like that, and it’s a little premature to be considering this, but she’s been thinking about it for a while now, almost since she went into remission, she’s just been scared, it’s the scariest thing in the world…) 

The doorbell jars her from her thoughts. Her hands shake a little as she stands from the couch, crosses the room and pulls the door open. Mulder is smiling nervously on the other end. “Hey, Scully,” he says.

“Come in,” she says awkwardly. “Please.”

He nods, peels his coat off as he moves towards her couch. She takes it from him and takes it to the coat rack, mostly for an excuse to calm her nerves. Her pulse is jumpy, erratic, and it seems insane that she’s this nervous, after everything they’ve been through. Scully sits facing him in a chair, smoothing the upholstery nervously before resting her hands on her knees. 

There is a few beats of silence, before he speaks, eagerly, to fill it. “Oh, how did your appointment go?” he asks. 

“Good, it was… good.” She clears her throat. “They said there was a good chance to get me pregnant. And that we could probably start soon.”

Something like fear flickers across his face before he smiles. “That’s great, Scully.” His hand spans the space between them and covers hers on her knee. “I’m happy for you,” he adds softly

There is something of regret coating his tone, regret that he’s trying to hide. His eyes are still on her, gentle and anxious, his hand still on her knee. She almost smiles. “Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says. 

He nods. He is expecting her to tell him that she is leaving, and she doubts he will try to kiss her this time, no matter how much she wants him to. He thinks she is going to leave him, when in fact she wants the exact opposite. But the question is whether or not he wants it, too. He is attempting to compose himself, prepare himself for what she says so that he doesn't overreact. He is trying. She is grateful for that, and when she remembers what she is going to ask him, she can't help but note how far it is from what he likely suspects she is saying. A grin tugs at the edges of her mouth again, but she pushes it back. She needs to prepare herself for the likelihood that he will say no, react badly. The possibility that he won't want this. She clears her throat again. “I’m not good with words,” she starts uneasily. “But, uh.” She turns her hand under his so that their palms are touching, and interlaces their fingers. “I was wondering if you would consider being the father.” 

He’s shocked; that much is clear. He doesn’t pull his hand away, but he stares at her in silence, mouth half-open, blinking like a newborn kitten. “Scully, you, uh…” he says finally, uncertain, incredulous. “You want me to be the father of your child?”

_ You’re the only logical choice. You’re the only one I considered, the only one I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you. I… _ “Yes.”

He blinks a few more times, staring at her with shock. Scully can feel the sweat pooling on her palm, and for a second, she regrets ever bringing this up. Her stomach twists. “I’m, uh… I’m gonna need some time to think about this,” he says.

She blinks hard to hold back impending emotion; what else did she expect? For Mulder to say yes enthusiastically, to leap up into her arms and profess his undying love? “I understand.” 

“No, Scully, it’s not…” He squeezes her hand, smiling a little at her. “It’s not a bad—I’m not looking for the best way to let you down. I promise. It’s just… a lot to process.”

“No, I understand, Mulder, really, it’s… not a simple request.” She tries to smile back. He hasn't said no yet, she reminds herself. He hasn't. “Take all the time you need.” 

He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. Scully closes her eyes under the pressure of it, tries not to fall apart or tether him to her and not let go. “I’d better head out,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course.” Thank God she picked a Friday; she doesn’t know how she would face him tomorrow. 

She retrieves his coat from the coat rack, despite his attempts to get it himself, and walks him to the door. He shrugs it on before pulling the door open and stepping out of the apartment. He turns back like an afterthought. “Scully?”

Her hand clenches around the door. “Yes?” she says in a clear, composed voice. She will not fall apart, as emotional as this possibility is to her. She will not fall apart.

“Thank you.” 

And finally she does smile. He smiles back, nervously, and lifts his hand in a brief wave before turning and walking down the hall. As soon as the door is closed, she rests her forehead against the wall and tries not to picture a baby with his eyes.

\---

When Mulder is considering an answer to Scully's question, he thinks of the boy he saw on the beach. Those dreams were the ones that preceded his departure from the hospital and Spender’s brain surgery. The toddler walking between his parents, the boy building castles and spaceships in the sand. 

He doesn't know who these people are or why he saw them, but he's been thinking about it. He remembers that the dream had changed, once: the people in the dream, the parents teaching their son to walk, had become other people, briefly. People who looked not unlike Scully and himself, and the toddler becoming someone who looked like the both of them. It had changed back, too quickly for him to process any of it, and he hadn't had time to linger on it anyway; too much was happening. He'd dismissed the dreams as an effect of the ordeal, similar to the hallucinations he had of a life in the fucking suburbs, of his sister and Diana and being a father… 

He has never really considered being a parent. It always seemed like the least important thing in his life. Too much to do, and for the longest time, he didn't even think he'd settle down. Diana had never once mentioned kids; their relationship never went any further than his giddy, half-drunk proposal and her equally giddy response, the ring that had been on her finger for a few months before she left for Europe. The children in his vision had been something of a shock; he hadn't known she wanted them, still doesn't know if she did. (Did. It is still harsh, the reminder that Diana is dead and it's likely because she gave Scully the means to rescue him.) He hadn't known that  _ he'd _ wanted children. But now… 

If there are any doubts in his mind, they would be concerning whether or not Scully wants them to actually raise the child together. Whether or not having a child together will drive a wedge between them. If she'd quit work, if that's what he'd prefer. If he wouldn't be involved, if he'd have to stop seeing her. But the majority of those doubts have faded in recent months since the ordeal in North Carolina, since her trip to Africa and his brain surgery. They've been closer lately, closer than ever. 

He's memorized the look on Scully's face when she asked him. The excitement lingering just below the surface, before the mask came down and she calmly asked him the question he suspects she prepared all afternoon for. He's loved her longer than he ever knew he could love anyone, and he thinks that she might feel the same way. He doesn't know what other answer to give her. 

He goes into the office on Saturday, tries to give himself something else to think about, but it does not work. He can't stop thinking about her, can't shake the entire idea. A baby,  _ their _ baby. He remembers her daughter, how much she looked like Scully, how small she was. This is Scully's chance to have what she thought she'd lost. To have it in a way that she deserves, in a way that she chooses. And maybe… maybe this is his chance to start over as well. To have the family he lost growing up. For the two of them to build a new life together, to be happy. 

The image is strong, too strong for him to focus on other things, so he calls Scully and tells him that he'll be by in about an hour, that he wants to talk to her. She sounds surprised—possibly that he made the decision so soon. Maybe she thought it would be a hard decision to make, and maybe it should've been harder, but it doesn't feel that way. It feels like one of the easiest decisions he's ever made. He drives over with giddy skittishness building in his stomach. This scares him to death, but in the best way possible. 

He knocks on the door and she opens it almost immediately, like she'd been waiting by it. “Hi,” she says, sounding just a bit anxious. 

“Hi,” he replies. 

“Come on in.”

“Thanks,” he says, entering. 

Scully stands by the door as he walks through the entryway, closing it behind him. “Can I take your coat?” she asks. She's fidgeting with her hands. She is anxious, more anxious than he's seen her in a long time. 

“No, I can't stay. I got to get back to the office for a while,” he says, turning back to face her, scanning the room briefly before bringing his eyes up to meet hers. It's within the range of possibility that he's nervous, too. The gravity of what he's about to agree to has dawned on him. They are having a  _ baby _ . They are going to be parents, how the hell is that going to work? He can barely even take care of himself.

“Obviously you've had some time to think about my request,” says Scully. The elephant in the room. The reason he's here, at least at the moment. 

“Um, it's… it's not something that I get asked to do every day,” he says. Trying to joke. “Um, but I'm…” Scully sighs a little, eyes closing, and he finishes awkwardly: “... absolutely flattered. No, honestly.”

“Look, if…” Scully says. “If you're trying to politely say no, it's okay. I-I… I understand.”

“See, as weird as this sounds—and this sounds really weird, I know—but I-I just wouldn't want this to come between us,” he says, trying to make her understand what he's been wrestling with in the day since she asked him. How much he's afraid of losing her. How he's hoping this means he'll never lose her again.

“Yeah,” Scully says, defeated, and he realizes that she is taking this the wrong way. She thinks he is saying no. “I know. I-I understand.” She looks away from him, towards the ground. “I do.”

“But…” He reaches for her, his finger brushing her chin. She looks up at him. “The-the answer is yes,” he says, reassuring, smiling at her a little. Trying to let her know that he wants this, too. 

A pause builds between them as she processes the information, emotion flickering over her face. Astonishment, tearful joy, until she finally smiles. She steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck tightly. His head resting in the crook of her elbow, he is smiling, too. Maybe a little overwhelmed at her gratitude, maybe a little overwhelmed at what they've agreed to do. But happier than he can remember being in months. 

She pulls away, starts uncertainly with tears in her voice, “Um… well I'll call Dr. Parenti, and, um… I assume he'll want to meet you and go through the uh… the donor procedure.”

“Oh, at that part I'm a pro,” he says, joking. He turns to leave, letting himself out. 

The door is closed behind him before he's rethinking his abrupt exit. What the hell was that for? He turns, opening the door behind him, and sticks his head in. “Hey, Scully, I didn't mean to run off like that,” he says hurriedly. “I just…”

She's standing in the place where he left her, hands clutching her elbows. She offers him a small smile. “No, I understand,” she says. “This is a lot.”

“It is,” he says in an exhale. But he smiles back at her. “So… what's our next step?”

She wipes her hands on her thighs, shoulders relaxing. “Well, like I said… I'll call Dr. Parenti and set up an appointment… I'll need hormone shots and a donation from you…”

“Right,” he says, nervously. “Well… just let me know the details, I suppose.”

“Of course.” She offers him another awkward smile. 

The awkwardness thick in the air, he steps forward and kisses the top of her head. She slides her arms around his waist. “This is a lot to sign up for, Mulder,” she mumbles. “I guess I just want to make sure… that you're sure.”

His cheek brushes hers as he holds her close. He thinks of a toddler on the beach, stumble-walking from Scully's hands to his. “I'm sure, Scully,” he says. He's never been more sure of anything.

\---

The entire thing is a much slower process than he expected. There are a few weeks of hormone shots before the actual implantation. She has to attend the doctor a few times during the process, so he doesn't bother taking any cases. She seems to approve: “You could use the rest, Mulder,” she says. “You're still weak from your surgery.” He'd argue if it wasn't for her appointments, and if it wasn't for how much he enjoys her taking care of him. She's handling him with a tenderness he hasn't seen in a long time, and he's letting her. It could be because they crossed some kind of line in North Carolina, realized what they were to each other and what that meant. Or maybe it's because they're about to be parents. Either way, they've reached a solidarity, a peacefulness, a point past friendship that he couldn't describe if you paid him, but he likes it. 

They keep up their camaraderie from before she asked him to be her donor, going home together in the evenings more often than not. Scully usually ends up going to his apartment, and she usually ends up leaving at around ten or eleven, but this ritual is accompanied with a sense of wistfulness. Like she wishes that he would ask her to stay. A few times, she falls asleep on the couch beside him. It's nothing outside of the ordinary, but his heart seems to pound a little faster when he wakes up to see her half-asleep against his shoulder.  _ That could be the mother of my children, _ he thinks to himself one night, a stunning frightfulness shooting through him. And anticipation. He wants to be a parent with her.

He has his own appointment with Dr. Parenti, and then Scully is implanted with the embryos a few days later. He drives her to the appointment and then to dinner afterward, a cheesy restaurant that is completely not their style and Scully smiles at him across the table. Her emotions have been back and forth with the hormone shots, but when she is happy, she is happier than he's seen her in a long time. A happiness that seems to have started when she'd found him in the Department of Defense and only grown with this new development. They're both happier, he's noted before. Both of them seem to be in a better place. 

He takes her to play baseball in the park again, after work one day, and trips trying to run to first base and she trips and falls right on top of him, bursting into giggles as they land stomach to stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Watching her above him, hair falling in her face and her eyes crinkling at the corners from laughing, Mulder thinks he might love her more than he ever has before. “Hey, Scully,” he says, pushing hair out of her face. “You know this isn't football, right?” 

She stops to catch her breath, face hovering over his. “Yes, Mulder,” she says breathlessly. “I know this isn't football.”

They are breathing together, hard from the exertion, and he can feel Scully's heat above him. She leans closer, and suddenly they are inches away. He can see every fleck of gold in her eyes, the faint freckles across her nose. He swallows, wondering if she is going to kiss him. She leans closer. 

Someone pounds on the chain link fence, shouting about this being a family park. Red spreads across Scully's cheeks, and she immediately rolls off of him, offering him a hand to help him get up. He takes it, and stumbles to his feet. He thinks about kissing her, but the moment is over. But there will be other moments. He is sure of that. 

“Hey, Scully,” he says as they walk back to where they left their stuff. He reaches for her hand and she takes it. “If um. If you are pregnant, that wouldn't hurt the baby, would it?”

The red on her cheeks deepens, and he immediately regrets the question. They don't know. They don't know that she's pregnant.  _ If _ she's pregnant. She ducks her head to hide her face, a habit that was much more effective when her hair was long. “I think it'll be okay, Mulder,” she says. “Besides.” She looks up, and he sees that she is smirking. “You broke the fall, remember?”

He smiles back, swinging their hands between them like they are middle-school dating. Like he's a teenager again. “That I did.”

\---

Weeks pass, and then it is time for Scully to take a pregnancy test. It's close to Christmas, holiday cheer thick in the air, and Scully is due in San Diego tomorrow. Mulder has wondered what they will do if the test is positive. If he will go with her. If she will stay with him.

It's a Saturday, so he drives over to Scully's house and finds her tense and nervous on the couch. She doesn't get up when he knocks, just yells for him to come in, and she doesn't look up when he enters. No signs of bags from the drug store. Just Scully, stiff and ready to snap. 

It dawns on Mulder in that moment that this might not work. That they may not be parents, that this whole thing might have failed. And where do they go from there? Whatever happens, their future is uncertain, but he hopes hopes hopes that the test is positive. The idea of being a parent is terrifying, but the idea of this never happening for Scully (for both of them) terrifies him even more. 

“Hey, Scully,” he says, sitting across from her. She mutters hello through clenched teeth. He reaches out and touches her knee. “So,” he says. “Today's the day.”

She looks up at him, her face blank. Poker face. He suspects he is making a similarly blank face, his goddamn panic face. They're so good at hiding things. “Yes,” she says. “It is.”

Mulder strokes her kneecap with one finger before withdrawing his hand. “So,” he starts tentatively. “Are you gonna get a test from the store or…”

Scully balls her fists in her jacket. “I… don't want to tempt fate by taking a home pregnancy test,” she says quietly. “Those can be wrong, half the time. I want to go to Dr. Parenti’s office and have a blood test done that will tell me for sure. I have an appointment.”

Mulder nods, understanding. “That's a good idea,” he says. “Do you want me to go with you or…?”

“No,” says Scully. He looks at her in surprise, tilting his head slightly in question, and she says, “It's not you. I swear. I appreciate that you want to, I just… I need to face this alone.”

Dana Scully, so strong, so independent. He can hardly fault her for that; he was alone this way for years.

She goes. She goes and he waits, lying on her couch. He doesn't bother turning on any lights; he watches TV for a while, but nerves force him to turn it off. Her Christmas tree lies dormant in the corner; he thinks about turning it on, but it feels too cheerful for the moment. 

_She could be_ _pregnant_ , he tells himself, but somehow that seems unlikely. It seems like too much of a magic fairy-tale thing to happen to them. A Christmas miracle: the Spookies find happiness by reveling in what was taken away from them. It feels impossible. He's told himself to keep his hopes low for risk of disappointment, but he wonders now if his hopes are _too_ low. 

He knows that they weren't as soon as she gets back. The door closing stuns him out of sleep and he gets to his feet, explaining that he was waiting for her. She doesn't say anything. The emotion on her face speaks volumes as she walks towards him. She is holding back to try and tell him calmly, but he can tell: she doesn't think she can get the words out. So he says it for her. “It didn't take, did it.”

“I guess it was too much to hope for,” she says. She is blinking back tears.

He shakes his head a little, as if to tell her it wasn't, and steps forward to wrap his arms around her. “It was my last chance,” says Scully, and her voice is full of tears. He lets his eyes slip closed with the weight of it all. He wanted this so badly for her, for them. She holds him tighter, sniffling.  _ It can't be her last chance, _ he thinks, arms tightening around her waist. He won't let it be. 

He pulls back and presses his mouth to her forehead, slowly, before leaning his forehead against hers. He says, “Never give up on a miracle.” 

Her hand suddenly goes to the back of his neck, and she leans forward. Her mouth lands right on the corner of his, hot and soft, and he shivers, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her closer. He strokes her back, blinks back tears of his own. 

“I'm sorry, Mulder,” she whispers. “I didn't mean to… put you through this.”

He shakes his head, laughing a little. “Scully, you didn't put me through anything,” he says. A tear trickles down his cheek, and he reaches up to thumb it away. “I wanted to go through this with you.” 

She sniffles into his shoulder, pulls back to kiss his cheek, right underneath his eye. “I never knew how much this meant to you,” she whispers. 

He reaches out and wipes the tears off of her face. She kisses his cheek again, his jaw, the side of his nose. “I should've told you,” he says roughly. 

He isn't sure how long they spend in her living room, holding onto each other. But eventually he cups the back of her head, rubbing her hair with his thumbs. “You need to get some sleep,” he says softly. Eyes closed, Scully nods.

When he takes her into the bedroom, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and whispers, “Stay.” And he complies. He crawls in beside her and wraps her arms around her. She sniffles, burying her head in his shoulder. And they fall asleep together—not for the first time, but for the first time with this much meaning. 

\---

By the end of the next day, Scully is supposed to be on a plane to San Diego with her mother. She has nearly forgotten about it that morning, sitting on the couch with Mulder in a pair of his pajamas from the times he's stayed over (oversized Quantico t-shirt and flannel pants rolled up at the cuffs). Their backs are on opposite sides, her knees against his ribcage, his feet tucked against her side. He's holding her hand on his thigh, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “Are you going to be okay out there?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I'll be fine. I can't… I can't duck out of this again. I need to face the music.” She can't keep hiding from her family. Matthew is almost two now, and if she isn't careful, she's going to miss him growing up. And she doesn't want that to happen. Better to rip off the band-aid. She takes a long, shuddering breath and squeezes Mulder's hand. “You know you could come with me, if you want.”

He's shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. “I don't want to impose, Scully, not like last time. And I feel like if I was there, your brother and I would be picking fights with each other, or he'd be asking me a bunch of questions about our work or, or Emily… I don't want to put you through that.”

She grimaces a little. “Thank you for that, I suppose.”

“But I'm here if you need me.” He pulls her hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “I promise. Even if you need me in person, I'll be on the first flight out there.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. He kisses her hand again before lowering it into her lap. She intertwines her fingers in her lap, against her abdomen, and suddenly wants to cry again. She's cried in front of Mulder so much more than usual the past evening, and she finds she doesn't mind at all. 

Mulder is watching her carefully, his eyes full of some soft emotion she can't place. “I don't want to… overstep, Scully, but…” He reaches over and puts his hand on her knee, his palm warm through the flannel. She is reminded of the night she asked him, and shudders a little, bringing her hand down to cover his. “We could try again,” he says carefully. “If you wanted to… we could try the IVF again, I could pay for it if you wanted. Or we adopt… there's more than one way to have a child.”

_ We. _ He's using the word  _ we _ . She smiles sadly. “Mulder, it's very sweet of you to offer. But I… I can't do this anymore. I can't take the possibility that it won't work again, not at the point I'm at right now. I don't know if I could bear it.” She sniffles a little, biting her lower lip, and he brings his hand up to cup her cheek. “I'm not saying…” she says tentatively, leaning into his touch, “…  that it's not something I won't want to try again someday… god, Mulder, I'm not sure I'll ever stop wanting this. But I can't right now. I can't. It's not the right time.”

He pulls his hands back, opens his arms like he wants to hug her, and she leans in gratefully. He wraps them tightly around her shoulders and she rests her chin on his shoulder. She closes her eyes, but the tears still trickle out from under her eyelids. “I'm here, Scully,” Mulder says into her hair, his hands warm on her spine. “I'm here whenever you're ready. For whatever you need.”

She curls her fingers into the back of his hair, brushes her lips over his cheek bone. “I'm here for you, too,” she whispers. 

\---

She leaves later that day. He offers to drive her to the airport, and she shakes her head. “I'm picking up Mom,” she says. “But I appreciate it.” She smiles at him, a little wistfully. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he says. “Anything. Okay?”

“I promise.” She brushes a hand over his cheek, moving it to cup the back of his neck. His hands hover near her hips. She rises up on her tiptoes and kisses his forehead, slowly. His palms press into her sides. They're nose to nose, suddenly, breathing in sync. She can't stop touching him. She thinks, just for a second, she might kiss him. 

He moves first. He kisses her on the corner of her mouth, the same way she did the night before. She shudders, curling her fingers into his hair. “I'll miss you,” he mumbles before pulling away. His cheeks are flushed, maybe in embarrassment. 

“I'll miss you, too,” she says, without a hint of embarrassment, because she will. 

He walks her to her car and kisses her on the cheek before she leaves. She gives him a little wave as she pulls away. 

She calls him several times over the next week and a half in California. 

\---

On the 30th, Mulder calls her from Tallahassee with a grave robbery case. “Looks pretty spooky, Scully,” he says. “Right up our alley.”

“Hmm.” She leans against the table, cell phone cocked to her ear. “Guess I should come check it out, then.”

“Guess so,” he says, and it sounds like he's smiling. He gives her the cemetery, and she drives straight to the airport. 

It turns out that the missing body—Mulder dismisses the grave robbery theory almost immediately—is a former FBI agent, as well as a potential member of the Millennium group, who is anticipating the apocalypse on at the beginning of the new year. He and four others committed suicide in an attempt to bring about Armageddon. One Frank Black, former FBI agent attempting to regain custody of his daughter, Jordan, assists them. He gives them a description of the man who is supposedly performing necromancy on the members of the Millennium group. 

Mulder goes out in search of said necromancer. At the morgue, Scully is attacked by an apparent zombie. It leaves bites on her neck and another pathologist half-dead. She is left with soreness, fatigue, and Mulder not answering his phone. Frank Black refuses to help her find him on the basis, so Scully sets out on her own, irritation building. Irritation and fear. There is no reason to think anything bad has happened to Mulder, except for the fact that he isn't answering his phone. And there's no reason to think he's anything other than being held hostage, or even just stuck somewhere with a dead cell phone, but there's no reason to think he isn't hurt or dead somewhere. She drives around aimlessly until Skinner calls with the information she needs. 

She finds the address that Skinner gives her, unlocks the gate and goes running as soon as she hears gunshots. She finds the alleged owner bound to a chair upstairs, Mulder in the basement with Black, some dead thing advancing on them. She shoots it without hesitation. It collapses on the dirt floor. In the red light of the sparklers on the ground, Mulder sags with relief, his sleeve soaked through with blood. She rushes to his side, her hands brushing his face briefly. “Just bite marks,” he says with clenched teeth. “I'm okay. Thanks for shooting the zombie.”

“Zombies don't exist, Mulder,” she says, pulling away the ragged edges of his sleeve to examine the bites. 

Mulder laughs a little, in the bitter way that says he expected her response. “Of course you would say that,” he says affectionately. “Scully, they're  _ right there _ .”

\---

Scully gets all three of them to the hospital. Frank waits out in the waiting room while Scully makes sure that Mark Johnson, catalyst of the undead members of the Millennium group and the man who locked Mulder in the basement, is put under suicide watch. Mulder’s sent back to be stitched up. Jordan Black is brought to the hospital and Scully takes her to her father.

Bringing Frank Black's daughter back to him leaves her a little wistful. Watching the girl run up to her father and hug him, she can't help but think of the things she's lost. But she also can't help but smile at the little girl, think:  _ Maybe someday. Maybe.  _ Mulder comes out with his arm in a sling, and her focus immediately shifts. She doesn't want to linger on what has been or what could be or what will never be; she wants to remember what  _ is _ . The two of them. The two of them against the world.

She and Mulder stand together and watch them leave, watch the ball start to descend in Time’s Square, the countdown echoing through the speakers. A new year, a new millenia. And maybe a chance to start over, provided the world doesn't end. And they are both here and alive. Scully finds herself smiling unexpectedly as  _ Auld Lang Syne _ begins to play. 

Couples are kissing and embracing on the TV, and she turns towards Mulder, but he is already leaning in. His mouth comes down over hers and he is kissing her sweetly. It is the summer of 1998 and a bee has not stung her, it's a hospital room last November and he's just told her he loves her. It is here, now, and they are not parents, but she is in love with him and he is kissing her. Her eyes close. It is slow, peaceful, not the way she pictured it. Softer, less of a culmination and more of a beginning. She opens her eyes to look at him as he pulls away. He is watching her, so she lets the smile dance across her face. It only took seven years, but they got here. He is smiling, too. “The world didn't end,” he says with a little shrug. 

“No, it didn't,” she says. 

She'd be happy frozen in this moment forever, but it is a new year and time moves fast. Things unsaid hanging between them, she is the first to look away. “Happy New Year, Scully,” Mulder says, maybe a little wistful. 

“Happy New Year, Mulder,” says Scully. 

The TV continuing to play behind them, Mulder wraps his good arm around her shoulder, and they head for the door. “Let's go home, Mulder,” Scully says as they reach the elevator. She reaches out to press the button. His arm stays around her, loose but affectionate. “Your arm must be killing you, and we could both use some rest.”

“Your place or mine?” he jokes, his eyebrows raised. 

“Mine,” Scully says. “It's closer.”

“Ooh,” he cracks, but his heart isn't in it. There's actual  _ context _ there now. 

A smile teasing the edge of Scully's lips again, she turns to face him, her hands brushing over his shoulders. “Took you a while to kiss me,” she says. 

Mulder grins back at her. “You killed a  _ zombie _ , Scully,” he says enticingly, reaching out to cup her cheek. “You saved my life.”

“What else is new,” she says dryly.

He rubs his fingers gently over the bite marks on her neck. “I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, Scully,” he whispers, leaning in. Their noses brush. “A really long time.”

“Oh, really,” she whispers. 

“I'm thinking about doing it again.”

“Hmm.” She wraps an arm around his neck. “I think it's my turn.”

“Really,” he says. He looks a little nervous, like you could knock him over with a slight breeze. “I didn't know that pathologists…” 

She rises on her tiptoes and kisses him before he can finish. A New Year’s cliché. She kisses him and kisses him and doesn't stop, except for the brief period that it takes to drive to her apartment. 

It's time. She's been waiting.


End file.
